Page 4 of Adonis (Salt and Starlight #1)

Connor’s stack of books towered high enough to wobble. When the judge said he would be completing assignments and reading books to correct his “prejudice,”

Connor had not expected to be given half a library. The books required detailed reports with a guardian’s signature as a guarantee. If he didn’t fulfil the terms, then it was back to court for another sentencing that could lead to a harsher punishment than being told to read.

His mom made noise in the kitchen down below; pots and pans clanking together, cutlery scraping and glasses colliding—possibly shattering and cracking—Connor couldn’t tell. It hadn’t been a good day for her. Connor hadn’t had a good one either. She’d thrown the first stone, and he’d responded with a dozen pebbles aimed to kill. Connor had pretended not to be upset under a cold exterior. No. He wasn’t upset. He’d stopped expecting anything from her; how could she still affect him after that?

Connor looked critically at the stack of books. The pile was composed of novels, instruction books, self-reflection books, and a whole folder of written exercises. They’d even given him empty copybooks and pens to write the reports.

Connor debated coming clean. Just writing the judge an email saying he was gay, and could he please not have to read half of the tomes squishing Laurence’s sketchpads.

He reached for the smallest novel in the pile. Virginia Woolf’s Orlando. He opened it and groaned. The text was tiny. Connor enjoyed reading, but he liked fantasy and adventure and anything that involved swinging a sword or shooting a gun at something bad. Having to slog his way through book after book of something boring and dreadful could kill his enthusiasm for reading.

Tossing Woolf onto the desk, he dragged the binder over next. He had to write three separate essays alongside the book reports, all of which were an academic variation of: Are you a piece of shit? Explain why. Many people thought his punishment was light.

He had agreed with them.

Until now.

*

Connor endeavoured to sit with the family for dinner, too worn down by stupid Woolf to put up any resistance. The introduction to the book was interesting, but the content hadn’t grabbed him. He brought it with him to the table, thinking he could use that to keep himself occupied, but he annoyingly found himself listening to Laurence’s account of his day at school with interest.

“It was awful,”

Laurence said to his dad with a stricken look. “I dragged the bow too harshly, and the violin squeaked. Everyone looked at me.”

“That’s part of learning,”

Trevor said. He was obviously fighting a smile. Luckily, Laurence seemed more pleased with his amusement than annoyed by it.

“How did your day go?”

Trevor asked Nick.

Nick shot Connor a glare as if the two minutes they’d been in each other’s presence had somehow ruined his day. “It was fine,”

he said icily.

“What about you, Connor?”

Trevor didn’t linger on Nick’s attitude, though Connor doubted he’d missed it.

“Its been a blast,”

Connor said dryly.

“You’ve made good progress.”

Trevor nodded to the book next to Connor’s plate. He’d used his butter knife to bookmark his page. “I should have guessed you’d be a fast reader with all the books in your room. Laurence gave them a go but ended up scribbling on the pages instead of reading them.”

Laurence jolted. “Dad—”

He whipped his head around to Connor. “It was one book, and I replaced it, I swear!”

“I’ve read them all. Paint in them if you want.”

Laurence looked at Connor, mystified. “You’ve read all of them?”

Connor’s summers here were incredibly lonely, and he’d always end up with long stretches of hours where there was nothing to entertain him. There was the TV, but he preferred taking his books to the beach and reading next to the ocean. “There’s not much else to do around here,”

he said, unhappy memories souring his tone.

“We will have to pick up more books for you,”

Trevor said.

“Judge Reese has me covered,”

Connor said, eyeing the so-far boring book next to his plate of salmon. What a novelty it was to be eating something other than pasta and cheese in this house. He vaguely recalled his mom making a few attempts at home-cooked meals when he was maybe six or seven, back when dad still lived with them. But by the time his memories were more concrete, meals were cereal and microwaved Weetabix. Plain pasta. Instant noodles. Everything a growing child needed…

Laurence’s smile faded. He looked away quickly, as if he’d suddenly remembered Connor’s reason for coming home, and realised he shouldn’t try to be friends with him. Nick’s stony gaze turned to Laurence, and his expression became one of I told you.

“I suppose you’re right,”

Trevor said in a neutral tone. Edith gave Connor a hard look as if to accuse him of ruining the mood.

“I’ll be dropping you off at your father’s in the morning,”

she said, keeping that hard look on him.

Connor looked at her in surprise. “He caved? I can stay with him?”

“No. At his work,”

she said, frowning. “You have to be supervised doing your readings, and both Trevor and I have work.”

Connor’s hopes dried up. So much for the solitude his dad’s house would provide. “Dad is married to his lab. You think it’ll be any different for him?”

“He’s promised to set you up at a desk and monitor you.”

Connor tried not to be too amused. He imagined his dad had agreed simply to get his mom off the phone and that there would be no supervision. “Alright,”

Connor said. So long as he signs the sheets, I don’t care. At least he could wander around looking at the giant fish tank they’d made of the ocean when he got bored.

“Isn’t the lab, like, super high-tech?”

Laurence ventured curiously. He looked at his dad. “We drove past there, didn’t we? It’s the place with the guards.”

“They’re just to keep people from wandering in,”

Connor said. “An American billionaire owns the place. He thought a glass building in the middle of the ocean would be cool, but the only way he could get permission to build it was to actually make it something. An ocean research lab in a bio-diverse hot spot was compelling enough to get approval.”

“It’s glass?”

Laurence asked, shocked.

Connor forgot that people didn’t know about his dad’s workplace. It was the kind of place that you would find in America, not plain old Ireland, with its churches and bogs.

“Part of it,”

Connor explained. “The submerged part facing the ocean is. The rest is concrete and steel.”

“Submerged?”

Trevor’s eyebrows went up.

“It’s part underwater,”

Edith said. There was a line of tension in her brow. “Aside from the lab staff and Connor, nobody is allowed down there because of safety concerns.”

“Do people try to steal ocean research?”

Laurence asked.

“It’s more to do with it being a few panes of glass between the lab and the ocean,”

Connor explained. “You can have all the safety protocols in the world, but if that glass cracks while someone is down there? They’re screwed.”

“I’m not sure I would like to work there…”

Laurence said, concerned.

*

Connor arrived at the lab early in the morning. His mom worked at a law firm, and it was a nine-to-five job she refused to be late for. Growing up, if he was lagging behind, he was left behind. Now, however, if his mom left him behind, her new husband would see that. Trevor’s presence gave Connor more wiggle room now than he’d had the entirety of his childhood.

The lab was on the outskirts of the town, and as they drove up to the checkpoint, Connor examined the tall chain-link fence that towered over the car and saw the rolls of barbed wire over the top.

“Did they have a break-in?”

Connor asked.

“What?”

she asked him, distracted. She was digging through her purse as they approached the check-in. Connor leaned forward in his seat, examining the barrier and the two guards that stepped out of the small hut at their approach. Two German Shepards walked obediently at the smaller guard’s heels. No chain or lead kept them tethered.

Connor took in the men’s athletic big builds and camo gear. Batons swung from their belts. But honestly, if there had been a gun, it wouldn’t have looked out of place.

His heart rate picked up as he stared at the two guards. His nerves prickled as familiarity washed over him, akin to déjà vu, but stronger.

I know them.

“Come on, Mom, didn’t you hear anything?”

Connor insisted, unnerved. “They must have had a bomb threat or something.”

The last time he’d been here, he’d been waved on through by a pink-cheeked, jolly old man. Now he felt they were about to have the car sniffed for contraband. Plus, the fence was new. The old one was barely enough to keep stray sheep out.

Looking up, Edith tensed. The taller guard held up his hand to stop them, and the one with dogs circled the car. She rolled down the window.

“This is private property,”

the taller guard said. He stared at her, then at Connor. The déjà vu intensified. A sick feeling twisted in his gut. Suppressing the instinct to avert his gaze, he stared at the man’s face, racking his brain to figure out how he knew him. Maybe he’d been here when Connor was smaller and visiting the lab?

“This is Connor.”

Edith’s voice was small. “His father, Ben Kelly, said he could spend the day in the lab with him. He emailed a permission slip.”

She took out a piece of paper, the one she’d been digging through her purse for, and offered it to the guard. After a second, he took it. As he read the sheet, the guard with the dogs came to the front of the car and stood there. The dogs sat obediently on either side of his legs. They both watched the car with unwavering intensity.

“Reverse and leave the way you came in,”

the guard said, folding the sheet and putting it into his pocket. He nodded at Connor. “Walk from here.”

“Okay,”

Connor said. He could try to get answers from his dad once he got into the lab. Shouldering his backpack, he exited the car. He kept a wary eye on the two dogs as he passed, but they didn’t budge from the guard’s side. His mom, as if she was eager to leave him alone with the two intimidating men, reversed at speed and gunned it down the road.

“Grab me a coffee while you’re there,”

the shorter guard ordered the taller one. His voice sent a shiver down Connor’s spine. He discreetly rubbed the goosebumps on his arms but kept his face level to hide his averse reaction to the man.

The taller one nodded at Connor. “Let’s go.”

If he hadn’t towered over Connor, he might have been brave enough to ask questions, but as it was, his courage abandoned him. He looked around instead. Tall iron posts with cameras had replaced the woodlands that used to surround the lab. There was a clear line of sight in every direction approaching the lab.

With relief, he saw his dad’s muddy, sea-salt-covered Jeep parked haphazardly by the front door.

The guard scanned his badge to open the front door. The lobby was the same; an open room with doors leading off of it. Among them was an elevator door. The guard indicated for him to get in.

The doors closed without the guard following, and Connor descended. A few seconds later, the doors opened. Connor stepped off the elevator into a room bathed in blue and green light. There was a long walkway lined with the ocean. Connor approached the glass. No matter how many times he saw it, the ocean rising above him, taller than he could see the surface, was both awesome and terrifying.

The water was murky with very little light streaming down from above, and Connor could only see a few feet—or at least what he thought was a few feet—into the depths before shapes became indistinct shadows. Seaweed rose from the ocean floor and swayed in the ocean currents like grass yielded to wind in a field. He had to look closely to spot the glimmering scales of small fish swimming among the seaweed.

Connor crouched down, narrowing his eyes as something with a bigger tail weaved through the weeds in the distance.